


Four Words

by TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard



Category: TXT (Korea Band), Tomorrow X Together | TXT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, BTS members show up, Friendship, M/M, Music, Rock Band, Slice of Life, TXT Ensemble, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 11:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard/pseuds/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard
Summary: Those four words would start a chain reaction that would irreversibly change his life. They would irreversibly change everything but he didn't know that yet.





	Four Words

Beomgyu’s phone had died as soon as he got off the bus. (He forgot how quickly games drained his battery.)

 

That meant he couldn’t use his GPS app. And asking for directions in this day and age was on the same level as attempted robbery based on the wary stares and cold shoulders he got from strangers. But after nearly two hours of aimlessly wandering the streets of a city he had never been in, Beomgyu knew he had found the right place when he saw the big ass Harley parked outside. The bike had been freshly polished so that it reflected the setting summer sun and all of its chrome bits turned gold.

 

It was Namjoon’s bike.

 

Everyone in their tiny, shithole town knew that bike. Everyone in their tiny, shithole town hated that bike.

 

Well... everyone except Beomgyu.

 

The sound of the bike’s deep-voiced engine could carry for _blocks_ and, some nights, Beomgyu would get startled awake by all of the noise and he’d lie in bed and wonder where the hell Namjoon could be going at 4AM. Then again, Namjoon wasn't in high school. He was grown and smelled like expensive cologne and wore expensive shoes with money he had earned himself and could do whatever the hell he wanted.

 

He didn't have a 10PM weekday curfew.

 

A 10PM weekday curfew that Beomgyu would not be home for tonight.

 

His mom would probably throw an absolute fit. Maybe it was a good thing that his phone had died. Getting grounded was insignificant in comparison to a night of seeing his favorite band play.

 

Beomgyu approached the Harley, splayed out his hands and almost but not quite touched the chrome. His fingers danced a breath above the curves. He knew better than to touch it. He knew how much Namjoon loved it.

 

A lot of people in town detested the bike because if the engine didn't make enough noise on its own, Namjoon was always blasting his music over the radio. Beomgyu appreciated the noise. It was the tiniest bit of chaos he could have in his lawful, orderly life. Sometimes all of the noise the bike made was more accurate than any clock. 7:30AM? Namjoon was on his way to the highway to head to his job at the music store in the next town over. 4:12PM? Namjoon was coming back into town, usually heading straight to the diner to meet his band. 5:55PM? He rolled right past Beomgyu’s suburban house on his way home, usually while he was doing homework with his friends.

 

“He's such a show off,” Taehyun always said whenever he was over and heard that engine roar past.

 

“He's got to be overcompensating for something,” Kai would always say as if reading his lines from a script, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

 

“He's such a rock star,” Beomgyu would always say, because he always had to be the contradictory one.

 

And Namjoon was a rock star. He was so cool.

 

Beomgyu had gotten his ears pierced in the exact same five places Namjoon had his ears pierced.

 

His mother had been pissed. His father had chased him down the hall with a pair of pliers in his hand as if that would work.

 

They got over it. Eventually. Maybe.

 

The show was about to start.

 

Beomgyu could already hear Namjoon’s band warming up through the brick walls of the old bar. It was one of the dirtier places the band had played in the last few years. The smoking, tattooed, leather-clad crowd outside were all older, taller, bigger and Beomgyu had never felt more like a child than right then.

 

He turned away from the Harley and made his way across the parking lot.

 

Years of following the band from venue to venue had taken Beomgyu to nearly every decent city around but he always liked it best when the band played in their hometown. The music sounded sweeter there. Probably because it was home and there was no need for scrounging up bus fare or telling lies to his parents. But the music probably sounded sweeter in town because after the show wrapped up, the band would usually treat whoever showed up at the diner to a milkshake. Sometimes half the high school would show up and those nights were more exciting than any dance club to Beomgyu. His friends and classmates and neighbors all crammed knee-to-knee in the old vinyl booths, fighting over napkins or sharing straws, calling dibs on who got to pick the next song on the jukebox.

 

Namjoon’s band… They were like hometown celebrities. They were all from such a tiny little town but they had a _record deal_ and went on tour all across the country! They were heroes.

 

Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai were sometimes lucky enough (or fast enough) to squeeze into a booth with the band and Beomgyu, like the number one fan that he was, would internally squeal with delight whenever Namjoon’s shoe accidentally brushed against his beneath the table.

 

But that was when the band played in town...

 

Tonight, there wouldn't be shakes at the diner. In fact, Beomgyu was never quite sure where the band ate when they played shows out of town. Hoseok often said they just ate takeout in the van. Slept in it, too, if they had driven far enough away from town.

 

Beomgyu joined the queue of concert-goers and watched as the giant of a bouncer took money and stamped hands, his expression a permanent scowl. With every person who got waved through, the weight of Beomgyu’s fake ID in his pocket grew heavier and heavier until it was his turn at the front of the line. Yeonjun was a genius at making fake IDs, or so he said, but that didn’t make the tiny little card feel any lighter. Beomgyu almost couldn't work the thing out of the front pocket of his too-tight skinny jeans. Fortunately, the bouncer only glanced at his ID, took his money and stamped the back of his hand, leaving a glow in the dark butterfly across his knuckles. Beomgyu practically ran inside when he was waved through and as soon as the door shut behind him, he yelled in excitement and relief.

 

He was in. He was in! His mom would kill him if she knew where he was but he was _in_.

 

Oh, it would have been a damn shame if he came all the way out here just to get turned away at the door.

 

It was the price of fame. Namjoon’s band was signed now. Had been for months. That meant no more free high school parking lot performances. No more cafe tables shoved against walls to make room for a makeshift stage.

 

Soon, they would get too big even for bars and concert halls. They’d be playing at massive arenas and stadiums soon. Beomgyu could feel it. He just knew they would go far. He wanted that for them but he also hated that. It wouldn’t take too much longer for them to start playing shows too far away for a day trip. Maybe they’d play overseas. His parents would never let him go. Maybe the tickets would get too expensive and Beomgyu’s scrawny allowance would no longer cover the costs no matter how many weeks he saved.

 

That day would come sooner than he wanted it to and he didn’t want to lose this. He wanted to keep this feeling. If he could jar it up, he would.

 

He had not missed a show yet. But he’d start to miss them soon. Namjoon's band would go too far for him to follow.

 

He was just a tiny sparrow and he’d soon be unable to keep up with the altitude and speed of the hawks.

 

The bar was dimly-lit and the air burned with the scent of alcohol and sweat. The crowd was packed tight like sardines, standing shoulder to shoulder already, clustering right in front of the stage. There were still plenty of people outside waiting, Beomgyu noticed, and the bar would only get more crowded as they were let inside. It would be a full house tonight.

 

Part of Beomgyu was terrified to be surrounded by all of these strangers. Any second, someone would realize he was just a kid. They’d sniff it on him like adolescence was a disease and they’d toss him outside.

 

He lowered his head and tried his best not to make eye contact with anyone. He felt like an imposter in his faux-leather jacket and Converse, an hour and a half bus ride from home and a half hour away from curfew. His dad would be so pissed and he'd probably lose guitar privileges for a week. The closest he'd get to music would be watching Kai’s stubby fingers fly over the piano keys after school. But… another part of him was thrilled by this gathering of like-minded souls. All of these different people congregating in this tiny place to listen to Namjoon’s band perform.

 

Music brought them together. Music connected them.

 

The charge to the air was getting almost religious.

 

Namjoon had just stepped in front of the mic to do one more mic check. The band hadn’t started playing yet but it was as if the first song was _right there_ and ready.

 

Beomgyu pushed his way through the crowd, forcing his way to the front so that he could get as close as possible. A few times, he met resistance and a held-out arm or stern glare kept him from advancing but, most of the time, he was able to use his small frame to his advantage and slip between two conversing adults or duck under somebody's elbow. Beer bottles and cameras and cell phones swung close to his head but he pushed through.

 

He got closer to the stage--it wasn't even a proper stage but a stack of wooden pallets with a cheap rug rolled over top--and was finally close enough to see the rest of the band over the many heads in the crowd.

 

Namjoon at the mic. Jimin on rhythm, fingers flying through the scales as he tested his amp settings. Hoseok on bass, his shirt already off and his body already glistening with sweat. Seokjin on drums, tightening his high-hat and tapping a four count on the bass drum. Yoongi on lead, pulling his shaggy black hair into a ponytail.

 

His idols.

 

In a way, Beomgyu had a bit of a crush on them all. Well, it was less romantic and more inspirational. He loved them but in the way you loved a song or a favorite hoodie. His heart got warm whenever he saw them. It filled with gratitude. Joy. They were five shining lights guiding him out of his murky, hormonal seventeen year old feelings. All five of them were his muses, igniting his creativity and causing him to spend many a school night scribbling lyrics in his notebooks and plucking as quietly as he could manage at the strings of his acoustic while his parents slept across the hall. It was Namjoon’s encouragement that made him pick up a guitar in the first place! Hell, if it weren't for these guys, Beomgyu may have never broken out of his shell at school and made friends with Taehyun and Kai, two effortlessly cool boys jamming together in the high school music room before classes started.

 

“What's up everyone?” Namjoon shouted into the mic, snapping Beomgyu out of his reverie. “How are we doing tonight?”

 

The crowd behind Beomgyu surged with excitement.

 

Namjoon smiled. “We came a long way to be with you guys tonight. I don’t know if I can say this or not but we _may_ have a new song for you.”

 

Cheers went up around the room. Beomgyu pushed himself through the last few rows of people in front of him until he was close enough to reach up and touch Yoongi’s guitar. Yoongi looked up at him in confusion. Then recognition sparked in his eyes and his usual, cold scowl melted into a friendly smile.

 

Namjoon said, “This is the first single off our album. I _guess_ some of you might know it.”

 

And like that, their performance began.

 

Seokjin counted off the beat and the band broke into a bouncy rhythm. All of Beomgyu’s worries melted away immediately. It was as if the music had put his tired feet on fluffy clouds. Everything felt like it was tilting. Then Namjoon put his lips to the mic and the most amazing sound came out. He didn't look like much of a singer. He didn't even sound like much of a singer with his low and raspy speaking voice, but when he sang it was a totally different story. His voice swelled up an octave to fill up the whole room and even the rough edges on the high notes felt like they belonged.

 

Beomgyu felt chills.

 

This is why he loved music. This is why he loved coming to shows. He felt like he could do anything when the bass drum was pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat, when the deep sound of the bass guitar swept through his ribs, when the body heat in the room made the brick walls damp.

 

Namjoon’s voice floated into daring falsetto and Beomgyu couldn't help but cheer as goosebumps crawled up his arms.

 

Halfway through the song, Namjoon made eye contact with Beomgyu. He crossed the makeshift stage towards him, squatted down and held the mic towards his face.

 

Beomgyu’s heart stilled. Numbness shot through him. He knew every single word to this song. He did! He could play every bar on his guitar but, with a microphone near his face and a crowd leaping around behind him, Beomgyu forgot all of the words. Namjoon reached out and grabbed Beomgyu’s hand protectively. Or maybe reassuringly.

 

Beomgyu forgot about everything else. He wasn’t in a bar several years underage and late for curfew. He was in his room with Kai and Taehyun as they jammed along to the song. Beomgyu looked up at Namjoon. And then he sang.

 

His voice was as soft as feathers and seemed to drift up to the ceiling as the band played. The lyrics of the song sounded so sad, so heartfelt, even over the quick beat of the bridge. The crowd yelled encouragingly as he approached the high note and nailed it like it was meant for him. Namjoon grinned, stood and picked up where Beomgyu left off, singing more passionately than before. His voice echoed into Beomgyu’s ears and bounced down to his gut.

 

Namjoon had the attention of everyone in the room. His voice _demanded_ that they watch.

 

Beomgyu wished he had that kind of power.

 

Almost too soon, the song was over. In the quiet that followed, the crowd applauded and whooped and hollered. Beomgyu was standing close enough to see Namjoon’s cheeks flush with relief.

 

Was it possible that, even after all of these years, he still got nervous on stage?

 

“This next song,” the singer announced, “is dedicated to my girlfriend.” He pointed out past the crowd. Beomgyu followed Namjoon’s finger to the bar where a girl with rainbow streaks in her hair had just sat down on a stool with a beer bottle in her hand. She was weirdly pretty, Beomgyu thought, with her round face and upturned nose and almond-shaped eyes. She realized that half the room had turned to look at her. She blushed and took a desperate gulp from her beer bottle.

 

Beomgyu turned back around just as the band launched into another familiar song. It was faster and a bit wilder. Explosive and loud. The crowd twisted and turned and moved to the sound. Hoseok bounded from one edge of the stage to the other. The bassist stuck out his long tongue and gestured to the crowd with an extended hand. “Come on, come on,” he mouthed.

 

When Namjoon opened his mouth, the entire room sang along.

 

It was a powerful moment, like the ground had opened up beneath Beomgyu and he was free-falling with his hands up. It was like the meaning of life had just been shown to him, lit up neon-bright.

 

 _This band right here_ , Beomgyu thought, _they saved my life. They changed me._

 

He still remembered the first time he'd seen them play at somebody's backyard birthday party. He had just started high school so maybe it was three years ago? Four? He couldn’t quite remember.

 

Even back then, when they were next to nothing, they were popular and it was easy to see why. Namjoon stood out the most among the group. He didn't radiate sex like Hoseok did with his sleeveless shirts and that swagger in his walk and Namjoon didn’t spark fear like Seokjin did with his all black clothes and giant piercings. No, Namjoon’s charm was quieter and softer but he could still command the attention of a yard full of teenagers. The band’s performance had been rough and unpolished back then but Beomgyu had fallen for Namjoon’s charisma and his unexpected voice. Had it been that show or the one at the school pep rally that made Beomgyu fall in love with music? With guitars? With Namjoon? Regardless, it had been the acoustic set outside the old movie theater (“Don't Tear Down The Old Lincoln” signs had been everywhere!) that made Beomgyu approach Namjoon after the show and say, “I want to make music like you do.”

 

He remembered Namjoon’s exact expression. How pleased he looked. As if it had been his goal from the very beginning to inspire Beomgyu.

 

“Well, do it then. Nothing can stop you,” Namjoon had said with a dimpled smile, then he took his hand off of his guitar and lightly touched Beomgyu’s shoulder like he was passing on a blessing.

 

“My band is going to open for yours one day,” Beomgyu had said. The words had felt as big and as serious as a marriage proposal.

 

“I'd like that,” Namjoon had said, almost whispered. “And I like your headband.” A pair of cheetah-spotted cat ears that his big bro Yeonjun had forced on him that morning before painting his fingernails black. Beomgyu had forgotten they were even sitting on his head even though it had been an entire day and he’d even gone to school.

 

Because of that one little compliment, Beomgyu wore the headband everyday for years, no matter how many times Yeonjun asked for it back. His classmates eventually stopped making fun of him over it and the cat ears had become Beomgyu’s trademark of sorts at school.

 

And, like an inside joke, every time Beomgyu went to a show, Namjoon made a point of looking at him and saying, “I like your headband.”

 

“And I like your band,” Beomgyu would always say back.

 

On stage, Namjoon’s band was swinging into their fourth or fifth song. It was slow and mournful and powerful and Beomgyu knew every word, his own soulful voice matching Namjoon’s in perfect harmony.

 

Had Namjoon heard him? Because he was looking right at Beomgyu now. They held each other's gaze for several seconds. It was almost like they were singing this song about love and solar systems to each other.

 

He didn't know what came over him. His body seemed to act on its own, his mind wrapped up in years of idolization and longing. Beomgyu climbed up on the stage and walked right up to Namjoon who looked right at him, right _into_ him, as he approached. As if he knew what was about to happen.

 

Beomgyu raised his hands to Namjoon’s jaw, leaned in and kissed the man square on the lips while he was smack dab in the middle of a line. Right in front of everyone. Right in front of Namjoon’s girlfriend! The whole world stopped spinning and all of that forward momentum sent every fiber of Beomgyu’s being slamming against the solid wall of Namjoon’s chest.

 

He tasted peppermint on Namjoon’s tongue. The kiss took Beomgyu’s breath away, but more shocking than that was the fact that Namjoon let Beomgyu kiss him. That he kissed back.

 

Hours, minutes or maybe just seconds later, Beomgyu pulled away.

 

“I like your headband,” Namjoon said quietly.

 

“And I like you.” Beomgyu said, because it was what he had meant to say every single time.

 

Every single time.

 

He didn't even care that the microphone had amplified their voices so that everyone in the venue heard them over the last eight measures of the song. He didn’t care because the world was just the two of them. Beomgyu just lowered his hands from Namjoon’s face and hopped back down off the stage to take his place in the crowd. Hundreds of eyes were trained on him. Hundreds of faces painted with confusion or excitement or surprise. He wanted to know what Namjoon’s girlfriend thought. He wanted to know what she'd do.

 

“This last song,” Namjoon called out as Yoongi’s strummed chord from the previous song continued to vibrate in the air, “is dedicated to a fan who has been to every single one of our shows since the very beginning.” He pointed out into the crowd. “This one's for you, Beomgyu.”

 

They started to play Beomgyu’s favorite song. Fast and harmonious and uplifting with Namjoon’s voice soaring high above the guitars. Beomgyu practically melted.

 

This moment was perfect. Nothing else mattered.

 

So much had happened in the last minute: his bold kiss, his love for this song, the dedication to him, the rabid energy of the crowd as the people nearby playfully jostled and shook him and whistled at him. It all combined into a fire in his heart that blazed higher and higher until it took him over. He knew with everything he had that _this_ was the one chance he would get that would let him change his whole universe. He was all powerful. Omniscient. He could change anything.

 

He was so sure of this that it felt like he might burst.

 

With so much power, there was only one thing that he could do.

 

Right then and there, Beomgyu pulled out his phone. Miraculously, against everything, it turned on. He typed four simple words into the group chat he had with Kai and Taehyun and Yeonjun. No sooner had the message went through than the phone cut off on him again. Dead for real.

 

That didn't matter. His message did. Those four words would start a chain reaction that would irreversibly change his life. They would irreversibly change _everything_ but he didn't know that yet.

 

To him, in that moment of complete bliss, feeling at one with the universe, they were just four simple words.

 

“Let's start a band,” he had typed.


End file.
